Colors of the Stained Glass Window
by Sunflowerprinting
Summary: Alfred is a monk who has found peace with his past. Arthur is running from his present. What happens when a disheveled runaway ends up taking refuge in the church, sheltered by a handsome savior? USUK
1. 1 - Runaway

_**Author's note:** This was a story done together with my best friend, so due credit to him. I love you Mattie 3. _

_Enjoy!_

If anyone had been watching close enough, surely they would have noticed an unusually clean, blond head of hair bobbing through the crowd. Dipping and weaving, until finally disappearing beneath a brown cloak of similar nature to every other shade of brown in the vicinity. The person to whom the hair belonged dodged behind some tables, panting slightly from the exertion of flight. His long tattered cloak catching on some stray garbage as he pushed through made him swear slightly under his breath and tear it away with more force than necessary.

"All this so no one would know who I am, and still they manage to track me down like a bloody criminal." His angry mutterings carried no further than his breath, though from the way he seethed it seemed as though the whole area should be echoing.

"How did they even notice so quickly? It must have been mother. Snooping around where she wasn't wanted. Even sending the guards out after me." The still moving man tripped over some rubble and fell sprawling into the open street. A cry rang out over the noise of the crowd.

"Bloody wankers." And the blond man was off again, sprinting through the crowded fair. Still winded from his first encounter, it wasn't long before he found himself frantically searching for a place to hide. His lungs and legs would only take him so much further. And it was with this final glance of desperation that his wild green eyes finally landed on the door of a looming haven. Feeling his hope swell, he propelled himself towards it, rushing through the door, and nearly collapsing in a great ungraceful heap at the entry.

Letting his eyes adjust to the comparative darkness of the interior after the glaring outdoors, the escapee found himself being approached by a tall figure in long brown clothes. The large room he stood in became clearer, and he could make out the details in the architecture. Stifling a gasp, he realized that the only place other than the palace with such intricate design would be a place of worship. Colors spilled across the floor, languidly coating the pews and walls. The enormous cross at the front was bathed in reds, blues, and greens, set aglow by sunlight streaming through the stained glass window that stretched across the vast expanse of the southern wall. It was as though a beautiful spell fell over the man who had fallen through the doors of this place, full of a silence so peaceful it filled him to the very core. But with one sharp cry from behind the spell was broken, and he was abruptly reminded of the dire situation he was in. The slow approach of the figure in brown had not gone completely unnoticed as he took in the serenity of the place, but now he moved towards it.

"Please, hide me!" His cry held just a bit more urgency, a touch more hollow desperation than he had intended, but the effect was made. A hand reached out to grasp his arm, making him jolt as a firmer grip than he had expected propelled him forward, through the pews towards the back of the church. He was thrust into a confessional, and left with only the image of a shadowy savior holding a finger to its lips in a warning of silence. As instructed, he curled to minimum size, and tried to stifle the sound of his breath by pressing his cloak to his face. The sound of voices was carried to him through the echoes of the empty church, and he could hear the palace guards' questions from the door. It was followed by silence to his ears, but soon enough he heard the jingle of armor and knew that the guards had been sent away. He did not venture out from hiding, however, until the brown clad figure returned for him. Reaching out a hand, the tall man gently pulled the runaway to his feet. And it was in the afterglow of sunset and relief that the escaping blond finally got a good look at his savior. The monk, as indicated by his brown robes, had pale blond hair that lay towseled on his head as though he had just come in from the wind, but the impression was given that this was a somewhat constant state. Pale skin and good stature made the monk an impressive figure. The things that made the smaller blond stifle a gasp, though, were the purest blue eyes he had ever seen, now focused attentively on him. While mere moments ago his heart had been beating from fear, this figure before him had set his heart beating again for entirely different reasons. And then a quiet voice, sweet and rough like raw honey washed over him and he thought he could go forever without hearing another sound.

"Are you alright?" His voice caught in his throat so he nodded.

"Will you come with me?" Another nod, and he was being led to a back room in the church, apparently where his savior slept. A sweep of the hand invited him wordlessly to sit, a stool at the side of the small room being the point of focus. The monk himself sat on the narrow cot along the other wall. After a moment of silence the taller figure spoke.

"So may I ask, what path you took that led you to hiding in my confessional today?" The man on the stool looked sheepish, but before he had the chance to speak he was cut off.

"No, first your name, if you would. What is your name?" A moment of hesitation before he decided to tell the truth.

"Arthur. My name is Arthur." "No full name?" The smaller man grimaced. "Just Arthur." A smile began to break over the other man's face like the sun breaking over a cloud. It was nearly blinding. And yet Arthur found himself struggling not to stare. In an attempt to distract, whether it be himself or the other, he forced himself to speak.

"A-and you? What is your name?" An unexpectedly loud laugh echoed through the tiny room. The monk jabbed his thumb towards his chest and smiled broadly, showing off an unusually good set of teeth.

"I'm Alfred." There was a pause, as though he was waiting for a reaction that never came.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Arthur finally remembered the years of etiquette training shoved down his throat, and spoke in spite of himself. Alfred managed to smile even more broadly, and the smaller blond couldn't help but marvel at the incredible gap between the monk who had stayed silent in the church and the one before him now, smiling and laughing as though he simply could not hold it in.

"So Arthur," Alfred spoke at last, letting Arthur enjoy the way his name sounded on the monk's tongue. "How did you end up seeking refuge here, from palace guards no less?" The light mood seemed to die slightly at that. The smaller man shifted in his chair, his eyes turned firmly away from the other's orbs of blue.

"Does it make a difference?" Arthur's voice was tight. "I am innocent. I have committed no crime." A thoughtful expression replaced the smile on Alfred's face. It was only a moment before the smaller man's judgement was placed before him.

"Alright. I will trust you. I should not, but something about you is telling me I must." The smile was back, tugging playfully at the corner's of the monk's mouth. Arthur's heart leaped. "But I must ask that you help with chores while you are here? We always need more helping hands." At the vigorousness of Arthur's nod, the monk laughed again.


	2. 2 - Wanted

The next few days seemed to pass by in a rosy glow. Alfred showed his new guest how to weed the garden, wipe the floors, and polish the silver. A brief foray into the kitchen which left both food and person coated in powder of the charcoal persuasion kept Arthur from meal duty, however. And he was alright with that. The monk may have been loud, overenthusiastic, and a bit more touchy than normal, but he did know how to cook. When they weren't sharing the chores and upkeep of the Church and grounds, the two men found joy in conversation with one another. The talked about their upbringing. How Alfred's family had been a warm and energetic household, until an illness had taken his parents as well as many of their neighbors, leaving Alfred and his younger brother Matthew on their own. Matthew had been taken in by another family, and Alfred had joined the Monastery. Arthur was astonished by his savior's cheerfulness in spite of his past. He remembered his youth with nothing but fondness, both for the parents he was certain were watching over him from heaven, and for the monks who raised him as though he was one of their own. Arthur felt guilty after hearing such openness from the other. He too had shared his story, his his father passing when he was young, being raised by his mother who cared, but was controlling. Feeling lost in his own household. But he had held back. There were things he could not tell the kind man who had given him refuge. It was killing him inside, even as the sight of the taller blond brought him growing joy with each day. Being plagued with guilt and curiosity over whether Alfred felt the same about him was keeping him up at night. It became so that he almost wished something would happen, if only to break his own tension. Unfortunately, on the night of the third day Arthur got his wish.

He sat at the dining table quietly, letting his eyes stare unfocused into the fire. His fingers traced up and down the cup at his place, long drained of water. Suddenly, a hand slammed down on the table, crumpled sheet of paper beneath it. Arthur started, knocking over the empty cup.

"I thought you said you weren't a criminal." The hurt accusation in Alfred's voice made Arthur wince.

"I'm not! I spoke the truth!" His eyes narrowed in anger. "How dare you accuse me in such a way. You have no reason to doubt my word!"

"Then why is your picture lining the streets, with 'Wanted for Reward' printed on both sides!?" Arthur stared up at Alfred confused, taking in the slightly reddened cheeks and eyes, still wet at the corners. Realization began to dawn as he wrenched the tattered paper from beneath the other's hand. It was true. His likeness stared back at him, carefully drawn, with a clear reward offered beneath it. A wanted sign if there ever was one. Distributed by the palace. Arthur growled internally. Of course it was her. Doing unnecessary things, messing around where she wasn't wanted, interfering with his life, the vindictive-

"Arthur." The rage that had been building inside him fizzled away all at once, leaving desperate despair in it's wake. How could he forget what he had done. His jade green eyes flew upwards to the face he had grown to adore. A face now lined in pain and assumed betrayal. He had to fix this. But what could he say. It was true. He had lied. It would be better if he were a criminal, at least that way he already would have no stinging sense of guilt. He had to tell the truth now...but would it be too late?

"I understand. I will explain. But I am not a criminal." Arthur's eyes met Alfred's, and the taller blond was struck with the sincerity he saw there.

"I swear it." His voice shook, but not from hesitation. Alfred took a shaky breath, and gave a quick nod. He would trust his first instinct, the one that had started it all, and believe him.

"Alright." His voice wavered only a moment before steadying. "I will trust you. But you need to trust me. Please. Tell me why is the palace searching for you so arduously?" Slightly taken aback by the passion in the monk's words, Arthur could only agree. Gesturing to the seat across from his own at the table, he took a breath and prepared for the confession he should have made from the beginning.

"I am not a criminal. I told you this before, and it is the truth. The palace is looking for me...not as a fugitive...although they disguise that fact well." Arthur couldn't hide the hint of bitterness that crept into his voice as he spoke. "They are looking for me because if I'm not there...they don't have an heir." The smaller blond's gaze seemed glued to the table. The silence was overwhelming, and as the moments passed a horrible dread began to pool in the older man's stomach. All it took to wash everything away, however, was the feeling of a warm hand pressing onto his own. His eyes began to water, his head snapping up to lock green eyes with blue.

"I believe you." Arthur blinked rapidly to keep tears of relief from spilling down his now burning cheeks.

"You do?"

"Yes...Prince Arthur." The truth was out, and the royal bowed his head once more.

"But tell me...why are you running away? Why come to this old church and stay with this poor monk when you could be at the palace?" Arthur opened his mouth to snap a sarcastic response, but looking into the others face he found none of the accusation he was so used to. Only genuine concern. And confusion. He paused, considering how to answer.

"All my life...I have been a prisoner of my birth. I am never allowed to leave the palace. Nor am I allowed to participate in official events. Since my father passed..my mother has been overprotective. Many of the towns people don't even know what the prince looks like." He waved his free hand slightly towards the crumpled poster. "Which is why they can get away with that. I wanted to try something. Anything. To eat with the people seemed a good place to start, but once I had gotten out they started chasing me and I...I got desperate. I came here for refuge, but I stayed here...because for me this was freedom." Arthur's cheeks were fully flushed as he forced himself to look directly at the man across the table once more. Their hands still flush against one another.

"I stayed with you, because...I have...never so enjoyed another's company." A redness began to subtly creep over the monk's face. He mouthed an 'oh', but it was as though his voice had hidden behind his embarrassment and couldn't be forced out. A silence full of words and feelings that hadn't been let out yet filled the room, broken finally by Alfred's unusually soft voice.

"I have enjoyed your company too. More than I ever have another person's." A strange joy stretched over Arthur's being, making his heart tingle and butterflies to flutter in his stomach.

"But…." Alfred looked away from Arthur's confusion with a pained expression. "Please don't think ill of me for what I'm about to say. It pains me as well." The smaller man nodded cautiously.

"You should go back to the castle." This time it was the monk avoiding the prince's gaze. "The people...they need someone like you. Your mother has been ruling for years, and has lost touch with the realities of this nation. You...you are so bright." A short laugh. "You ran away from the palace to be with the people. They need someone like you. They deserve you more than me." With every sentence Alfred's head hung lower and lower. Now his chin was nearly touching his chest, his words becoming muffled in the folds of his robes. Arthur felt he might cry again. He understood. He knew the truth had been spoken. He had a responsibility, and though these days had been the best of his life, he knew it was just a way for him to run away. He couldn't do that. He thought back to his father who had worked his whole life to be a fair and just ruler for the people. He knew he had to go back. He just hadn't wanted to see it. Especially now, when he had even more reason to stay, in the form of the stunning blond man before him. His desperation began to carry him away again, until an idea formed that left him nearly breathless. It didn't have to end like this!

"I understand!" The exaltation in his voice must have seemed a cruel betrayal to Alfred, for he flinched slightly at the words.

"But you must come to the castle too. You must come to see me. If I cannot be here with you, then please. Please go there to be with me. These days have meant so much to me and I...would hate to see it end like this. Won't you visit me there?" The hope seemed to teeter at the edge of his voice, waiting to explode if only the right answer would let it. It was reflected as blue eyes met green, and burst over them in a shower of joy with the simple 'yes' Alfred could not help but give.

"Then it is decided. I shall go back in the morning."


	3. 3 - United

It was a stifling reunion, and the only thing that allowed Arthur to keep his head up through the scolding and the smothering was the knowledge that Alfred would be visiting soon. The second he had walked through the gates, guards had swarmed him, and delivered him directly to the queen as though they thought somehow he would return only to mock them before fleeing again. Even as he scoffed Arthur could not deny the possibility of this, which made his rather large eyebrows scrunch even further together in scowl. This time was different. Alfred had instilled something in him even he could not yet identify. He knew what it was he had to do, as difficult as it may be. He had a responsibility to the people he could not put off anymore. Not when one of those people had proven to be so dear already. The queen had told him he was stupid and thoughtless. She insisted that he take to his room as though it was treasure cavern and never leave. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. No, the real challenge hadn't come until he walked into a council meeting, sweeping to an open seat and settling in as though he attended every week. The members stared openly. His mother's irritation making her seem like fast boiling tea kettle. She had tried to toss him out, but he had held firm. It was the most uncomfortable hour of his life. Thank god Alfred came to visit that afternoon. If it wasn't for him sitting close, assuring him he had been brave and done the right thing, telling him how much more he could do for the nation, surely he would have broken down and cried.

As it was, Alfred's callings began to grow more and more frequent, just as their duration began to grow longer and longer. They would spend hours together, talking, working; even just sitting was a precious pass time as far as they were concerned. Before long Arthur began to realize that his feelings for Alfred were more than simple friendship. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but the closer the two of them got, the harder it was to deny. A brush of the hand, a graze of the thigh sent his mind swirling, his heart beating fiercely.

It was a nearly a week later that Alfred next came to call. The church had been busy. A minor outbreak of sickness in the surrounding houses had brought many people to call upon the monks, both for medicinal and spiritual relief. When at last the commotion had died down, it was with his first glimpse of free time that Alfred had propelled himself towards the castle. The young prince was not the only one anxious for their near daily meetings, and it seemed an eternity to both of them since they had last seen each other.

"I'm sorry I've been so long away." Alfred was quick to apologize. Arthur had only a moment to pretend to sulk before he was pulled into a clumsy, but oh so warm hug. The breath on his ear taunted his senses exquisitely. "I've missed you!" A heat shot through the green eyed man, his whole face flushing in an instant. "I - I -I've m-missed you too." he stuttered, startled by the man's confession. When their faces pulled away, Arthur found himself avoiding eye contact.

"There's ah...something...I need to tell you." Alfred's normally boisterous voice shook quietly as he spoke, and Arthur's red face immediately grew pale with fear. Was it something about the church? Was Alfred sick as well...or worse tired of their meetings? A barrage of desolate possibilities bombarded the smaller man as he sat tensely, waiting for the other to continue. There was a long pause. "It's...well to me it's nothing bad but I...I fear what you might think of it. What you might think of me once you hear it..." He trailed off once more. A knot had formed in both their stomachs.

"Arthur, I'm in love with you." The words tumbled out all at once, a single exhale propelling the emotion of who knows how many nights of deliberation and worry. Alfred felt at once both of sense of release and intense dread taking over his senses, seeping out of his pores. He dared not look at the object of his affection. Were the expression one of disgust he did not think he could bare it. But an unexpected sound jolted his head abruptly. The monk's eyes widened with his drooping jaw as he stared, his beautiful love's eyes stained in a patterned red as a thin trail of wetness dappled his cheeks. And that voice usually so wonderfully grumpy came out in a whispered breath.

"You too?"

The joy was like a sunrise, the moment the sun breaks over the horizon and light seems to suddenly spill into every crevice of one's life. Alfred's arms couldn't move fast enough to embrace the prince. Just as the prince couldn't wait to feel that sturdy warmth around him. If this was a dream, he did not want to imagine waking up. Neither of them did.

The days that followed were infused with a joy neither man had felt before. The visits that had already become habit, were now openly craved by each. Feelings of need had been suppressed by both for so long that it was hard for them to meet without hands finding hands, lips finding lips, and fingers intertwining. Now that each knew the other felt the same, they found a new freedom in their words as well as their bodies. Shyness with the phrase "I need to see you" seemed to melt away the more it was used, until it was nearly a daily installment in the couples vocabulary. When Alfred couldn't make it from the church, Arthur would sneak out of the palace.

Beyond their hidden romance, the prince was finding fulfillment he never had before in the workings of the nation's politics. He took to participating in meetings of parliament, and it was not long before it was him to whom the members took questions of policy. He was slowly gaining a recognition for the position he had been born into, but never before attempted to fill, and it gave new purpose to each day. Just as Alfred constantly brought him joy.

As with physics, however, what goes up must come down. It took only a single kiss for everything Arthur has built to collapse upon him.

A message from Alfred that he couldn't make it to the palace that day prompted a stealthy royal escape down to the village. His common cloak wrapped right around him, Arthur glanced hastily in both directions before propelling himself down the large oak by his window, pressing the well worn bark to his palms with a sense of almost cathartic relief. Unbeknownst to the blond, however, was the set of eyes watching from the shadows. As the prince made his way what he thought was inconspicuously through the town, it was a set of eyes that followed him, silently observing. He arrived at the church like a quiet puff of wind, blowing briskly through the broad doors and breezing towards the monk who stood alone in the main hall. His hands danced lightly over the blond man's brown robes, the smile they exchanged one of the pure bliss found in each other's kiss was sweet, lips melding to lips, only a sliver of Alfred's tongue finding it's way into Arthur's mouth before with a final peck he pulled away. It was over in an instant, as their hands curled around each other, finding comfort in the warmth, and their eyes met to share a moment of silent joy. But this time, their kiss had been seen. For the eyes in the shadows had not lost track of Arthur's movements. Through the bushes by the low church windows a stealthy figure now moved, a scene in his mind replaying freshly in preparation to report to the queen.


	4. 4 - Betrayal

When Arthur returned to the palace, nothing had changed. There was not a sign that forebode of the things to come. On the contrary, he found that his mother was unusually permissive throughout the council meeting. Indeed throughout the remainder of the day not a harsh word was exchanged. While confusing, it was certainly a welcome change from the usual bitterness infused into every encounter. Today the queen seemed, however, lost in thought. After the final meetings had been concluded, she drew Arthur aside.

"I have seen how you have been working to be included in the meetings." The young man flinched slightly, preparing himself for an outburst long coming. He was pleasantly surprised.

"I think you have done quite well. At first it was difficult to accept, seeing my baby boy grow up like this, but I think perhaps you are capable of more. For the next several days I would like to see you head the council meetings. It is a good deal more work...you must be prepared to dedicate yourself to this task. But if you succeed...well I suppose you might be on track for a good deal more responsibility. Are you willing to undertake this?" The question hung in the air a moment as the price absorbed what had been said to him. Such a concession from his mother had always been unthinkable. Had he really managed to gain her acceptance...moreover her respect in such a time?! The opportunity was snatched before she had a change to change her mind.

"I would be delighted to. Thank you for your kind offer." His language was stiff, but the second he was out of sight the young royal gave a leap of joy. He had done it, he had finally done it. Of course this did mean that he would be unable to get away for a few days. Unable to see Alfred. Though the thought of being apart from his love for so long saddened him, he was thrilled to have finally worked his way into the heart of government.

Alfred received the message the following day. Arthur could not escape the palace, his duties had increased. The monk smiled as he read it, knowing what this meant to his other half, indeed to both of them. But the twinge of sadness could not help but set in as he went about his daily duties in the church. It would be a long series of days without Arthur's brightness to hasten them. When he lay down for the night in his cot, thoughts of the prince circled endlessly. He recalled one night when he had snuck out of the palace for a visit, they had exchanged kisses and wandered out to an open field a ways behind the church. No lights to dim them by comparison, the stars had shone as brightly as the moon itself, a great glowing orb in the velvet sky. The night had been chill, and when Arthur had begun to shiver, Alfred had grabbed him close, wrapping his arms tightly around him and marvelling at how perfectly another person could fit to ones own body. They were like two puzzle pieces meant only for the other. And surely Arthur felt the same. With the scent of hay still in his nose, and the places his arms had wrapped so closely around his lover still tingling, the monk fell into a restless sleep.

The days passed slowly for Alfred. Without Arthur by his side, he found what used to be the normal routine to have become rather dull. The only thing now that brought variation to the worn out cycle was Alfred's foray into the confessional. He would listen with mixed emotions as everyone from elderly women to young boys made their way into this box of truth, and spilled their most shameful secrets to be absolved by the young monk on the other side of the screen. On the fifth day of Arthur's absence, a particularly lonely Alfred had just finished listening to a weepy young man tell the tale of how he had failed to water the flowers at his mother's grave during a bout of illness, and now they were wilting and she would surely judge him from beyond. The honey blond had to stifle a chuckle here and there, but after the tale had been completed he gave the man several prayers to recite as penance and sent him on his way. He was standing outside the narrow door, stretching his back and yawning ineloquently when a slight figure made it's way quietly to the front of the church. The girl was wrapped tightly in a cloak, and as she made her way forward Alfred could see the signs of distress on her face. Red and puffy eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as she moved. Noting her approach, he quickly ducked inside the booth, pulling the door shut and the small screen open. A moment later he heard the door on the other side slide quietly shut, muffled as though she was attempting to keep her very presence as secret as her sin. The blond man spoke gently, crossing himself as he relayed the words of his religion. A silence passed, before a voice so soft it was barely audible responded.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned...it has been 43 days since my last confession." Her words shook, like frightened leaves dancing in the autumn wind.

"I...I...I have..." Alfred felt his heart quake for the girl as she began sobbing in the darkened booth.

"I have committed a terrible sin." He could hardly make out her words through what was surely her hands covering her face.

"I have committed a terrible sin, and now I am with child out of wedlock." It was as though the words had opened a floodgate for now all the silent tears she had been shedding grew sound and volume. The monk's face was grave as he listened.

"What are the circumstances of this situation?" His voice was not accusatory, but almost conversational. As though he did not know the harsh realities for a young woman in her position.

"He asked me...to lay with him. I work at the palace, I...he seemed so kind. He said he was so busy with meetings...he said I soothed his tired mind. He saw me when I was cleaning. He sought me out. I was flattered. It is not every day one catches the eye of a prince..." She trailed off into more quiet tears as Alfred sat in shock. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sensation. Arthur. The girl continued speaking, her voice wavering between an ashamed low and desperate high pitch.

"After...it happened I asked some of the older maids...if the prince ever did something like this before. They told me he seeks out the young ones, the new ones...and then…" Another sob forced her to pause. "And then if they bear a child he sends them away." her words carried through the small screen with a quiet wail. The monk could not respond. Surely not his Arthur. Not his Arthur he had fallen in love with as a commoner. Not his Arthur he had kissed so tenderly under the stars. His Arthur...her Arthur. And two broken hearts wept side by side, though only one could know it. Alfred went through the remainder of the confession as though made of wood. His legs, arms, indeed his entire body felt leaden as he made his way to that small room in the back where he first saw Arthur smile. First spoke to him. A whirlwind of memories regaled him whichever way he looked. How could the man he trusted so completely not only betray him but...be so different than he had seemed. Alfred lay on the cot they had shared for only those few, precious nights, letting the truth sink into his soul in bitter, ruthless waves.


	5. 5 - Silence

The palace was unchanged. The young prince seemed to be in constant movement, a flurry of questions and pressing matters of engagement continuously raining upon him until he fell into his bed for another night of deep dreamless sleep. Only to awaken to the same the following morning. On the seventh morning away from his love, the dawn's light found him groaning in exhaustion. His blankets bunched were bunched among the official robes he had not had the energy to remove before collapsing the night before, and they were beginning a gentle suffocation. Gasping his arousal, he tossed them away and blinked sleepily about the still quiet room. Honey blond hair sat tousled on his head, green eyes still foggy with lack of sleep peering around for a singularly absent presence. It had been too long, and even in his current state, he desperately missed his robe clad lover. Glancing towards the faint light streaming through the window, he realized it was still early. It would be several hours before the meetings started up again. It was unusual to have so much time, but even the aged and accustomed counsel members needed an extra bit of rest during occasionally. In an instant the prince was awake and alert, having made the unavoidable decision to sneak out to the church. Donning his common cloak felt almost nostalgic after such a long time away, and with every step that brought him closer to that little crossroads where his blue eyed man dwelled made his heart swell further in excitement. _Finally. _The word seemed to chant itself over and over in Arthur's head like a mantra. _Finally! _

The large wooden doors creaked grudgingly, echoing in the morning silence. Arthur both winced and rejoiced with the sound. If Alfred was still sleeping, he didn't want to have to wake him...but he did want him to wake up. After so much time apart, he wasn't sure that a simple moment spent gazing at the monk's sleeping face would cut it. The royal crept down the rows of pews, letting his hand graze over the smooth and well worn wood. The church was so peaceful this time of day. Indeed, he could not remember a moment when he had not felt at peace here. But perhaps that was more because of who he came to see than the building itself. He smiled quietly, the thought of seeing Alfred after so long, and watching his lover light up with a joy reflected in his own heart propelled him more expediently towards the little room in the back. Eyes sparkling, he peeked in at the blond figure nestled in the sheets. In only a few steps he reached the cot, fingers pressing lightly against the broad back before him. Mere seconds and he would see those bright blue eyes, the ones that reminded him of water and the summer sky. And then his lover turned, and everything clouded over like a fierce summer storm.

Alfred hardly slept. After finally drifting off into a fit and restless slumber, he was awakened to sensation of pressure on his back, lightly shaking him. Whereas the day before had closed on him enveloped in desperate hurt and sadness, this new morning was breaking on a dark and angry man. The hurt from yesterday had turned to something bitter and poison overnight, staining his tongue in a foul taste from even breathing the name of the prince he had trusted so deeply. This was not who he used to be. Even the death of his parents had not caused this hatred to build inside him, and yet this was a betrayal too deep to let go. Just as the love that remained plagued him like a true disease. Upon opening his eyes, circles dark beneath them, he found himself staring up at the royal. His green eyes were sparkling, seemingly from excitement. His hair was pale yellow, and nearly glowing in the faint morning light. His skin, so smooth that for a split second Alfred could almost feel whole again. It did not last. His brow furrowed. He could not speak. The rage was boiling, but he would not let himself sink to this man's level. He would not become like him. He turned away, not seeing the hurt confusion on his lover's face as he did so.

"Alfred?" It was a quiet question, a plea for explanation. The monk would give him nothing, exactly as he deserved. "Alfred, what is it? Are you ill…?" Silence was his only answer. The voice behind him grew more desperate.

"Alfred please...talk to me! Are you angry I was away so long? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...I thought you would be proud of me. I didn't mean to anger you please, Alfred. Won't you at least look at me…?" Arthur's voice trailed off into a whisper as he was left with nothing but the stony view of his lover's back. If he could still call the man that. Not even his desperate shaking had driven horizontal figure from his disinterested position. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, making its way leisurely down until dripping upon the homespun sheets. The prince's hands clenched into the blankets. Had they not served as barrier his nails would surely have driven themselves through the tender skin of his palm. Another tear followed the first as he sat shaking. What could have happened since he was gone to cause this? _What have I done? What can I do!? _Even as the questions screamed themselves in Arthur's head he could not bring himself to voice another word. The pain of rejection was proving too much. Unable to control himself any longer, the smaller man flew from the room, a small cry wrenching itself from his throat as he did so. Alfred winced. He could not deny the small bubble of guilt that appeared in the back of his consciousness for the way he had acted, but the anger was far greater. _He deserves no better for what he did to me. _The monk thought bitterly. _What he has been doing to everyone. _

The queen's chambers were located in the west wing of the palace. So while morning light would stream through the wide windows of Arthur's room and shower his bed with it's morning glory, the queen would find herself bathed in yellow late in the day. A more resonant sense of sun could be found in the autumn colors that shone over her terrace all year round. The queen enjoyed the evenings, after the rush of sun had gone, and was replaced by the soothing cool blues of a dusky sky. It was in this time that she most often went outside to sit, and consider the problems of the day, as well as where she found herself now.

A knock echoed slightly in the expansive chamber behind her, and the royal woman was reminded of a similar day mere weeks before. How she had sat in this very place, a tangle of hair wrapped cloyingly around her finger as she toyed with it. Toying also with half baked experiments to get her son out of that counsel chair he had glued himself too. The queen loved her son, but it was not his time to wield power. Indeed, it would not be for a very long time if she had anything to say about it. What on earth had brought about this sudden rush of motivation...well the queen had a theory about that. And it was just at that moment that the glorious sound of a muffled knock echoed out behind her, just as it did today. The queen smiled to herself. The news that her son had indeed been wrapping himself in the arms of a monk had come as no surprise, but instead a great treat. For now, she knew for sure the source of his motivation. Knowing that, she felt certain she could destroy him. In the most motherly of senses, of course. Turning slightly, the queen called for her guest to enter. A young girl peeked her head around the door. A quaint, pretty face was framed by yellow hair, and small red lips which pursed and smiled before her majesty the queen.


	6. 6 - Depression

The prince was not at counsel the next morning. Nor the next, nor the next. There were murmurs among the members, but with the queen sitting firmly back in the head chair, no voices rose above a whisper. And the meetings continued. Arthur, for his part, remained in his room. His pillow would dampen and dry with the waxes and wanes of his tears. Alfred seemed to be everywhere he looked, every mirror reflecting him, every voice in the hallway echoing in the honey tones of his love. The prince pulled himself up to the window to stare at the tree which so often gave him escape, then letting his eyes wander further until they reached the great expanse of the town. It was gray and dismal, but just knowing that it was in the midst of this clamor and chaos that his love resided was enough to make his heart ache for it. As the tears ran down Arthur's face, his forehead pressed against the stone of the window, letting the cold soothe his burning face. Little did he know that through the tiny window of a large church, a blond monk was staring back at him. Eyes roaming over the palace as though if he was observant enough he could somehow catch a glimpse of the prince inside.

It would be another week before Arthur found himself sliding down the tree by his window once more, brown cloak wrapped snugly around him. The drive to see Alfred had become too much to bear, and the prince craved his nearness, if only to ask him again what had prompted his sudden coldness. The walk to the church was short, thoughts of what he could say to his lost love bumping together in desperate chaos. He peeked through the solid wooden doors, his eyes immediately going to the tall figure by the confessionals. The doors swung shut behind him with a hollow creek.

"A...Alfred….?" The prince's voice was nearly lost in the echoes of the church. He could see the figure before him twitch. Swallowing his fear, he moved closer to the monk. The flinch Arthur felt as he placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder hurt him more than any words could have.

"Alfred, please." Green eyes began to water as his voice broke. "Please, talk to me. Tell me why?" The taller man whirled around, anger flashing in the summer skies that were his eyes.

"Tell you _why?!_" He spat. "You should know perfectly well _why_." The air was filled with combatting clouds of anger and confusion. The expression on Arthur's face drove Alfred to snap completely.

"How _dare _you come back here and act like you don't know anything!? What was I? A _game _to you!?" All the emotions he had been holding in since that day in the confessional burst from him with a furious force.

"I know about the girl in the palace. I know about all the girls! And you-" His voice had become a growl, and he found himself choking on his words as he remembered that she was with child. Arthur's child.

On the prince's part, he was growing more and more bewildered by the minute. How could Alfred think there was a girl in the palace? What could have even prompted him to think of that in the first place? He could see on his face how the man's heart was breaking, and he could feel his own doing the same, but he did not for a second understand why. And then the final blow of Alfred's speech came, tears finally overflowing from orbs of both green and blue.

"And you knocked her up." It was only a whisper, but it sounded like a yell to the young prince. Struggling to deny the accusations, every word sounded like lies, even to the royal himself. His voice was shaking from grief, but he knew it would be taken as guilt.

"I...I..d-don't know w-what you are talking about, Alfred…? T-there is n-no girl in the p-palace. There has only e-ever been you…" But Alfred was already turning away, face once more clouded in silent anger and betrayal. The conversation was over without even beginning. Arthur felt the sobs begin to build up inside, and with a choked back cry he clutched the cloak tight around himself and fled the building. Alfred remained standing, face downwards for what seemed like hours before the sound of other monks in the courtyard forced him to move. That night, lying in his cold cot, Alfred closed his red eyes and feigned sleep until dawn.

To the rest of the palace it seemed as though nothing had changed. Arthur remained withdrawn to his room, occasional sobs and empty cups of tea being the only consistent proof of his survival. The queen too remained firmly seated at the head of the counsel. Were they gossiping men, one might remark to another that for a woman with a distraught and weakening son, she seemed awfully pleased with herself. But of course they were too mature for such juvenile pastimes. When at last the prince did emerge, he was a ghost of his formerly robust self. His cheekbones were now prominent on his even paler face. His eyebrows appearing grotesquely large over his simultaneously swollen and sunken in eyes.

Even as he wandered aimlessly around the castle, Alfred's words were turning over and over in his mind. The girl in the palace, the child in her belly. It was a confusing torment, a riddle within a curse. Then one afternoon, on a short walk that had turned into a tour of every corridor, Arthur chanced upon a scene that shed a single ray of truth into his dark and lonely mind. A young maid, fair of face, flaxen of hair, and red of lip was peering into a doorway he knew all too well. The queens doorway. Suddenly, the prince felt pieces begin to click into place. The thud of a heavy door swinging shut in a now empty hallway was the signal for him to move back to his own chamber. For the first time in a long time, however, there was a purpose to his gait.


	7. 7 - Confrontation

Being disrupted by a loud pounding on her door was not the way the queen had wanted to find herself early on a clear morning. Slowly pulling on her dressing robe, she made her way over to the door, concerned by the knowledge that maids would never knock in such a way. Upon pulling open the sturdy door, the royal woman was brought face to face with her own son. His features were set in angry lines, jade eyes flashing as he stepped by her into the room. She felt the urge to flinch as the door slammed behind him, but let her face fall into the mask of poise she wore at every council meeting.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice fell like drops of ice in a marble pool. The blond was not to be intimidated.

"Mother, I think you know exactly why I am here." Arthur whipped around so quickly the air surrounding him seemed to snap. His emerald eyes glistened with barely contained emotion.

"You sent someone didn't you?" the words forced themselves through his lips towards the queen like bullets shooting towards a target. "You sent someone to lie to him." The tears that threatened to spill were pushed down in an effort to maintain composure. The queen stared at her son, her face a mask of plastic and paint.

"Why don't you calm down Arthur...tell me what you are talking about?" ever the picture of grace and decorum her royal highness was not deterred by this outburst from her offspring. While internally indexing appropriate reactions to the interaction, her face displayed none of her inner conflict. The prince was left angrier than ever as he stood in her expressionless presence.

"You know exactly what you did, mother. You know exactly, and I can't believe I have to stand here and accuse you like this, only to be lied to. Just as you had one of your henchman lie to him." The blond man's voice broke slightly as he began to speak of his religious love. "Do you have any idea how much this has hurt me…?" His tone grew soft, nearly imploring with this new direction of thought. "I-I love him. And now he won't even speak to me. He thinks I have lain with half the castle help, and cast more out for growing large with my bastard children. _Who do you think could have made him think like this, mother!? WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!?" _

He couldn't help the tears that began to spill over now, rage and devastation overcoming him. The queen felt a quiver in her heart, watching her son break down before her. Still though, she would not let uncertainty overcome her. Everything she did was for a purpose, and she said as much.

"It had to be done." Her voice was dark as she spoke, noticing the way Arthur held in a breath at this confession. Eyes wide with betrayal he watched as she moved across the room.

"It simply had to be done. You weren't ready to be on the council, let alone running it. That boy was putting ideas in your head. Leading you down paths you weren't meant to walk on. I simply righted a wrong situation." She found a place at her writing desk, settling into the solid chair which she turned to face the young man.

"I don't think I even have to tell you how inappropriate it was for you to be with him anyway. It was not difficult to discover the nature of your relationship. If you wished to preserve some semblance of dignity, perhaps you should have been more careful." Her words bit through him like teeth through flesh, and he flinched as though wounded.

"We did nothing wrong." Arthur's voice was a wavering whisper, but it carried to his mother's ears none the less. "We were just...are...just...in love with each other. At least….I am still in love with him. I only wish he might still love me the same, after the lies you told to him." The strength to fight now sapped from him, the prince found a heavy exhaustion weighing on his very bones. With tired strides he pushed himself towards the door, flinging it open with his last burst of energy only to find a girl standing flush against the wall. She jumped back, face blooming red to the tips of her straining ears. The prince himself felt no more startled than this maid apparently was. As he watched her realization slowly began to dawn. His voice was quiet, un-accusing. Indeed, it was not even any longer a question.

"It was you." A simple line, provoking a simple response. The girl nodded, her eyes flooding with tears as she watched the expression of the tired royal before her. The lines that had set in his forehead, and around his eyes; not from laughter, but from tears. And his face turned, moving with him as he began to walk away. The maid stood frozen in the hallway for a moment, torn between her heart and her head. Her mind was screaming at her, insisting that she had no business with him, that she worked for the queen, and had only done what she had been ordered. But before she knew it her feet were moving, heart singing it's silent tune of guilt and atonement.

She caught up with him at his door, fingers lighting on the handle as she moved breathlessly to his side.

"I will go to him with you." The prince was frozen, still as though fearing a single movement would shatter her fragile words. Yet they remained there, hanging in the air for him to take as he would. He slowly turned to look this girl in the eyes. She had unwittingly taken everything from him. But perhaps...perhaps now she could give it all back.


	8. 8 - Reunion

**_Warning;_**_This chapter contains scenes of an explicit sexual nature. If this offends you, please do not read. _

Alfred was in pain. Everything from his back to his heart ached. His back from overworking in the garden as a form of distraction, his heart from loss. Both a result of Arthur Kirkland. It wasn't like Alfred to think this hard about anything, or to be so deeply hurt by someone he just met. If he thought about it, they hardly knew each other. So little time had passed between the two of them, and yet he felt so comfortable with the older man. So at peace when they were together. It had been so many days since he had felt that way. Now, he sat in his room. Callused hands folding over and over the corner of his thin cot cover. In his mind, a pair of swimming green eyes stared at him, love and adoration overflowing until he could feel it filling him. Even down to the tips of his toes he felt complete as those jade orbs regarded him. And with a jolt he realized what he had done. Arthur wouldn't lie to him. They were in love. He had felt it, he had sensed that it wasn't just him. But from the beginning there was a nervousness he could not shake. It was that quiet fear that led to this pain of separation, not the prince so lonely in his tower that he would fight to come down. A prince who laid with castle servants for offhand pleasure was no one Alfred knew. The prince Alfred knew was nothing like that. The blonde monk was on his feet in seconds, hands running through his wild hair in the after throes of epiphany. The moment of joy passed, as a dark realization hit him. _What had he done? _He had been so short with Arthur, so disbelieving and mistrustful. How could he expect the prince...the love of his life to forgive him? Alfred had no longer fallen into this train of thought than he heard the church doors bang open, and forced himself to prepare for another confession.

Arthur peeked through the doors, quietly at first, now hesitant in this place that used to be a sanctuary. His recent interactions with the man he used to call his had left a dry spot in the oasis that should have been his heart. But with the nearly shaking girl he had at his elbow, on this day he felt he could push forcefully through those doors to confront his would be lover. The resulting slam seemed deafening, but when the fog of noise cleared, there, standing directly in his line of vision, was that blond monk. Their eyes met for the first time in weeks, and the resulting pop of green and blue was like fireworks for both. Alfred had stopped short, and although his expression was vague, the prince could see flashes of panic and something unreadable in his face as he made his entrance with the girl at his side.

"Are - are you here for -" The taller man swallowed roughly, before continuing in a voice thick with emotion. "What are you here for?" It was not how he had wanted to begin, but he could think of no other words. The sight of the man he had loved, and indeed still did love by the side of a woman he did not recognize was difficult to process. Despite the fact that he had spent the entire past several weeks believing the worst of that same man.

Arthur found his own throat growing tight as their eyes remained locked. He had missed those sky blue orbs so much, he ached with longing. His feet began to move slowly forward, even as he spoke. A quiet echo in the otherwise silent room.

"I have come to speak with you." The silence between words was overpowering. It was as though the two figures had been encased in ice, they were so still. Then all at once, the quiet shatters and Alfred was leaping towards Arthur, gathering his smaller body up in his arms, kissing his face, holding him so close his breath is pushed from his chest.

"I'm sorry." The monk's voice is muffled, his face pressed into the prince's scratchy cloak. Arthur could feel the fingers entangled in the folds of fabric at his back, and couldn't help the bewildered and yet exuberant pounding of his heart.

"I'm so sorry. I was afraid, and I didn't trust you. I don't know what came over me. When I heard that girl in the confessional I...I panicked. I didn't even think of you, not as a person. I remembered you were the prince and I...I'm just...I'm just an orphan monk. Who am I to look at you, to hold you...to love you?" At this the taller man lifted his eyes to the jade ones before him, both pairs tinted now tinted red around the edges.

"I love you, Arthur Kirkland. I should never have doubted you, I...I don't want to lose you." The patches of sky blue darted anxiously towards the girl, hanging back in the shadows as this exchange occurred.

"Can you ever forgive me?" It was only a few seconds, only a tiny fraction of a moment that passed, and then Arthur was in Alfred's arms because he threw himself there. His fingers sought upwards, tangling themselves in those familiar strands of gold, dancing nimbly over soft cheeks and lips. Lips so soft he needed to feel them on his own immediately, for it had been too long since that sweet sensation had belonged to him. They stood there, in the center of the church hall for what seemed like eternity. All of the pain had been blown away, if only for this moment, and they were together. The only place each of them truly knew they belonged. A cough from behind was what woke them both from their euphoric embrace. The two men broke apart only slightly abashed before turning to the young maid, still standing quietly by.

"Should...I be here?" Her soft voice faltered as they regarded her, not wishing to offend the two lovers now reunited. Arthur's eyes widened momentarily as he recalled the purpose of her presence, and indeed the entire venture to the church that day.

"I brought her here to tell you the truth!" He exclaimed, green eyes sparkling at the closeness of blue.

"To make up..." There was a small giggle hidden in the words the prince spoke, as though laughing at the irony of it all, the apparent uselessness of the gesture now that Alfred had made everything right between them. Said monk cocked his head to one side, eyebrow raised. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, twitching it upwards before he ducked his head abruptly for a stolen kiss.

"Should I listen?" He smiled wide at Arthur's crimson face, relishing the way the shorter man shrugged shyly before resting his forehead on his robed shoulder.

"Ok. So let's hear it." At this, his face turned towards the girl in the shadows, hardening as his voice grew in volume. He noted the way she flinched at the change, and regretted none of it.

The trio soon found themselves gathered in Alfred's room, the two men seated side by side facing the girl, who was settled uncomfortably on the stool. Arthur flashed back to the first time he had met his blond sweetheart, his own discomfort as he squirmed on that same stool. He laced his fingers with that same blond man now, holding tight to the calloused hand as they prepared to hear the tale of their deception.

The girl explained how she had been sought out by the queen because she was young, entrusted with a special task. The royal lady had instructed her to go to this church and confess to a sin she had not committed, confide only in a certain blond haired monk. She described the story she had told to Alfred in the confessional, exactly as the queen had relayed it to her. And after the truth had been laid out before them, convolutions cast aside for facts, the girl apologized. Her lies had broken them apart. But now as they sat side by side, hands intertwined with a single thumb stroking over the other's, they could feel no rage at this poor maid. She had done only what she had been ordered to. The two men were fully aware of the power of the queen.

After the girl had left, and they had adjusted themselves so that Arthur was laying flush against Alfred, his head nestled securely on his chest, Alfred began stroking his hand up and down his smaller lover's back.

"I'm so sorry…" he whispered. Arthur turned further into his monk's brown robes, the scratchy fibers muffling his response. "Why?"

"Because. I doubted you. And all this time...we could have been together. We could have…" He took a breath and paused as though to compose himself.

"All that wasted time." Arthur lifted his head this, letting his gaze trail upwards over the shoulders, neck, chin, and face he knew he could never grow tired of.

"It wasn't wasted." Alfred wasn't meeting his eyes, but he could see the quirk of his head that asked the question for him. "It wasn't. It was the time we needed to be sure of each other. If it hadn't of been for this...perhaps we never would have known what we were capable of. We never would have known how we couldn't live without each other. We needed this. To get through this. Besides...now that this time has passed, we need never be without each other again." Arthur's smile glowed too brightly for the small room in which they lay, filling Alfred's eyes with a light of hope he hadn't seen in a long, long time. "Right?" It wasn't even so much of a question as an affirmation, reassuring the monk that he wasn't alone. That the body lying flush against him was warm, and alive, and wasn't going anywhere. At least as long as he wanted it there. Alfred couldn't contain himself anymore, gripping Arthur's locks in his fingers, and bending him back to kiss him passionately. Arthur responded with a soft moan, letting the sensation of the monk's soft lips on his own wash over him in a wave of pleasure, and he shivered. Fingers were roaming now, seeking the feel of warm skin and closeness as robes were slowly discarded.

"You're so beautiful." Alfred's whisper tickled at his lover's ears like a secret, sending tingles up and down Arthur's spine. _A-Alfred_. The monk's hands began exploring further, moving downwards to play at the other's naval, before continuing to a place more intimate. The prince gasped when he felt his member grazed by gentle calloused fingers, and moaned into another heated kiss as it grew even harder under the careful ministrations. The pressure began to build in even strokes. Through his half lidded eyes, Arthur could barely see the clear blue eyes that watched him carefully, a small smile playing over the red mouth.

"Alfred, I-I'm…!" The prince's vision went white, as blinding pleasure wracked his body. Alfred continued to stroke even as he came down from his high, pulling every sensation from his smaller lover until he lay exhausted and panting before him. Peppering his royal beau with gentle kisses, Alfred smeared his sticky palm across the other's belly, coating his fingers. Emerald met sapphire with jolt before a tongue was plunged into a still panting mouth, lips capturing lips hostage. The discomfort of an intruding finger was hardly noticed. The ache of a second was harder to ignore, however, and Arthur groaned slightly into the kiss.

"I'm sorry, baby. Is it too much? Should I slow down?" Alfred looked into the pained expression of the man below him in concern, pausing his digital ministrations.

"N-no, don't stop." The prince gave a slight smile and wrapped his arms around the neck hovering above him, hands running down broad shoulders. "I want this to happen. I've been waiting for you for too long already." The light tinge of pink on Arthur's cheeks was nothing to the deep crimson that now painted Alfred's, who ducked his head in embarrassment at the former's words.

"I've been waiting for you too." He nearly whispered, before continuing to move his fingers, still deeply embedded. After adding a third digit, and continuing to stretch a bit more, Alfred found himself ghosting over something that made his more petite lover cry out. Toes curling ever so slightly, Arthur's eyes were wide as he searched the other's face.

"What was that?" he panted. "Do it again!" The monk's smile was near blinding as he realized what was happening, and he swiftly found the spot again, continuing to abuse it and drawing cries of pleasure from the other. Once he felt Arthur was loose enough, he removed his fingers. The feeling of Alfred's length pressing hard against him ceased the prince's whimpers at the abrupt feeling of emptiness, instead making him focus on what was to come. The monk's hand stroked up Arthur's thigh, sending tingles through every inch of the smaller man's body as he pushed in. Their breath mingled in a simultaneous gasp as their bodies united. And Alfred began to move. It took only a few thrusts to find that special place within his lover that made him scream, and he took great joy in focusing all his energy at it. The pleasure filled cries of the prince only served to egg him on in ways he never could have imagine. Yet even as they both felt themselves nearing their peaks, Alfred slowed, staring at the man beneath him in all his glory, sweat soaked hair strewn over the pillow, plump red lips fallen open. And those glorious eyes, focusing on his own.

"I love you. I love you so much." Arthur's smile was pure joy as he responded. "You have no idea how much I love you too." It didn't take much time for the two lovers to find release in each other's arms. As they lay together, listening to the echoes of heartbeats slowing in the afterglow of ecstasy, neither prince nor monk could think of any place they would rather be. The sun would no longer rise to a day in which they were not together.

_Despite appearances, this is not the last chapter. Just FYI. _


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